


There's Another World, There's A Better World

by ghostssleep



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sad Ending, Slow Dancing, Suicidal Thoughts, sad shit to get sad on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostssleep/pseuds/ghostssleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Corvo and Jessamine reconnect after the Emperor's death. Cue dance lessons and sadness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Another World, There's A Better World

**Author's Note:**

> Please listen to this while reading (warning for suicidal thoughts): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vy0NySCmuFU  
> 

“I didn't know you could dance.”

Corvo turned sharply to see a petite silhouette lean casually in the doorway. The shadow pushed from the door's frame into the lamp light and revealed itself to be Jessamine. She had caught him dancing a little jig in his room, trying to get the blood going in his legs. Sitting at a desk all night made his muscles ache for running on rooftops and scaling walls. 

Jessamine stopped a few feet away from Corvo, her regal stature slouching noticeably. The hairs sticking out of her proper bun and the small lines on her face told him she was tired of today's duties too. She sighed, her eyes averting Corvo's, opting to look out the tall window. It was a moonless night and all that could be seen were the twinkling lights from the shore.

“Is it from Serkonos? Karnaca?” she asked softly.

Corvo nodded, hair shifting in front of his face. He pushed some of it back. He really needed a new haircut.

“You should see the nobles imitate it,” Corvo said dryly. Years before, he used to snicker at the Gristol elite jutting their limbs in hilarious angles to the familiar rhythms, notes reminding him of spices and wine and the sun. The sun, especially. He remembered a time when a young Jessamine would snort loudly at the stories Corvo quietly spun about the dancers, much to everyone's chagrin. 

The balls had since become solemn, slow waltzes acknowledging the Empire's loss. Corvo, now Lord Protector, didn't whisper jokes to her anymore. Jessamine, now Empress, hardly laughed anymore. But tonight, Jessamine smirked. Her eyes shined slightly. The little things, Corvo thought. 

A silence fell on them like a blanket, quiet and comforting, if not a little too warm. Corvo was saddened at the space they had put between themselves. Jessamine must have known about this as well.

“Well?” she said, with a quirk of her brow, “Can you teach a Gristol how to dance Serkonan? I wouldn't want to embarrass myself.” 

Corvo taught Jessamine all the basic steps and where to place her weight in them. He whispered the different moves' names as they danced them. They stepped on each others' feet often. They smiled and laughed softly, the rhythm getting slower and their bodies getting closer. 

They eventually embraced, abandoning the lesson as their arms wrapped around each other swaying slowly. Corvo breathed in her presence as she sighed heavily, clutching him tightly as if the moment would die and she would wake from a dream. Jessamine lessened her grip and draped her arms around his neck loosely, stroking his long locks soothingly. Tears soaked through his coat and tears fell on the crown of her head. They both grew up too fast and too soon.

“I'm sorry,” Jessamine said. Their bodies still swayed around and around the room, slowly blurring Corvo's vision. He gripped her tighter as he opened his mouth to answer.

Her warmth suddenly disappeared. 

Corvo felt the cold air smother her existence completely, like a cigar pushed into an ash tray. Lying on the old, creaking bed, Corvo woke up. Sitting up, he had to remind himself that that was what she was now: ashes. The memory, the dream made Corvo ache to follow after her, to become ashes as well. 

But sitting there, in the attic, Corvo knew he wouldn't. Sleeping nearby in her tower, Emily slept fitfully. Perhaps she was having the same dreams. Corvo had already decided to be strong with Emily, because they only had each other in this rat infested city.

The windows still displaying the bleak darkness of early morning, Corvo dressed for yet another mission for the Loyalists. If not for him or Jessamine or the Empire, then for Emily. He couldn't dwell on the past if there was no future for her.

Corvo left the mask for last. He imagined phantom fingers brushing through his hair as he pulled it over his face. While adjusting the lenses, Corvo could have sworn that sitting on the bedside table, the Heart had beat one lonely pump by itself. But like dreams, it too turned silent again.


End file.
